


is this the place we used to love?

by trashmouthing



Category: BBC Merlin, Merlin - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Immortality, M/M, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:28:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashmouthing/pseuds/trashmouthing
Summary: He is sure if he opened his eyes then, they would burn gold, and he would scorch this land, burn it beneath his feet and dry up the lake once and for all. But he doesn’t. Hecan’t.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur, past Arthur/Gwen
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	is this the place we used to love?

**Author's Note:**

> if bbc won’t give me a sixth season of merlin, i suppose i’ll have to write one myself. i don’t own any of these characters because if i did, they’d be happier!

Somehow, he finds his way back to the lake every time. It does not look the same as it had the first time he ended up here, but Merlin would know this lake in any lifetime, in every lifetime. 

_It could be beautiful here, _he thinks to himself as he stares out across the water as it glimmers in the light of the setting sun. It sets sprawling forest ablaze, casting golden hues against the bark of the towering trees as they stretch towards the clouds above. Yes, it could be beautiful, but only if Merlin were able to erase what happened here. Eons have passed since Arthur’s final breath, since he grew limp in Merlin’s embrace as they sat on this very shore together, worn and bloodied from battle, and yet it could have been just yesterday for the young warlock.__

____

____

The lake never does look _entirely _the same; it is a touch more tame, the paths winding through it worn from traveling hikers and hunters, but if he squints, it could be Avalon as it was back then. Some lifetimes are closer than others, the threads of time weaving closer together, almost identical but never quite right. Of course, Merlin has also lived in times which look nothing at all like the world he first knew. He has seen days where trees are torn down, uprooted, and replaced with homes, parking-lots, strip malls — these instances are the most difficult times for him. He tends to struggle more to remember his life in Camelot when so much of what he knew then is different now, gone; his life with Arthur, with Guinevere and the knights is so tethered to their beloved kingdom, to the sprawling woods and wide open spaces, that when he finds himself in suburbia or even in the hustle and bustle of a city, it reduces all of it to a mere fog in his mind, a distant image he can never quite pull into focus. Merlin would much rather live with the pain of remembering every last moment he got to share with Arthur, even losing him, rather than forget him entirely.__

____

____

The mere idea is enough to bring him to his knees then, and he collapses at the water’s edge, digging his fingers into the grass and dirt beneath him as he lets out a wail. It is a broken sound, animal, something that he has been carrying inside of him for centuries. Tears well up, catching on his lashes and threatening to spill over, but he fights them. He is so, _so _tired of fighting, exhausted with the weight of countless lives lived without his love and aching for his return. His chest grows tight as he recalls afternoons spent on horseback, darting through the forests surrounding Camelot, Arthur’s infectious laughter pealing in the air around them like a church bell as he leads them off on some new adventure. Merlin would have followed him anywhere, done anything to keep him safe.__

________ _ _ _ _

_____ _

He squeezes his eyes closed, trying and failing to curb the flow of more tears as they roll steadily over his cheeks. The images won’t stop coming now, flooding his mind with the blood and sweat and screams of that final battle that ended it all, that terrible day that left Guinevere without a husband, Camelot without a king, and Merlin without his soul. He remembers it so vividly, the way he’d pleaded with Kilgharrah for a way to make it right. The great dragon, head bowed, had been just as much help as always when he’d assured Merlin that when Albion needed him most, Arthur would rise again. But Albion too is gone, has died time and time again, and Merlin is still alone. 

_”You lied!” _Merlin shouts at the water, voice cracking, and he is grateful once for the isolation this existence brings, for how empty the air around him always feels when he stops pretending to be of this time. Magic still courses through his veins as powerfully as it did back then, but it is much more important for him to conceal it now, even more than during Uther Pendragon’s reign. He is sure if he opened his eyes then, they would burn gold, and he would scorch this land, burn it beneath his feet and dry up the lake once and for all. But he doesn’t. He _can’t. _Because even after all these years, all of this time spent alone, he is still hoping that one day, Arthur will come back to him.____

_____ _

_____ _

_”Please,” _he whimpers, bowing his head as he sobs, his whole body trembling with the force of his cries. “Please, I — I can’t do this anymore...” The wind billows around him softly, almost as though it is coiling around him, and the hairs on the nape of his neck stand erect. His shoulders tense as for the first time, something answers him.__

____

____

_Emrys, _the Voice says, and his head snaps up so forcefully it makes a cracking noise in the otherwise silent air. It is an old Voice, one from long ago, and Merlin knows it well despite having not heard it in centuries._ Emrys, you must be patient._


End file.
